


Pound of Flesh

by selinakyle47



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:39:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinakyle47/pseuds/selinakyle47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha pay Loki a visit in his cell to take what is rightfully hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pound of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> So very grateful to t0bemadeofglass for giving this a once-over.

Natasha carefully examines the image on the screen. It is difficult to imagine that the figure slumped on the bench, eyes shut and head resting against the wall, is the same individual who mocked them from behind a glass wall. Who commanded an alien army that nearly brought New York City to its knees.

Then again, being tossed around by the Hulk like a ragdoll would be enough to humble anyone. Even, apparently, a god.

“How long has he been like that?”

The agent monitoring him visibly startles at her question, almost falling out of his seat in his haste to turn around and face her. The young man appears confused and more than a little irritated at the interruption, but his expression clears when he realizes who’s standing in front of him. He snaps to attention immediately.

“Since I took over watch four hours ago, ma’am.” He gives her a sheepish look. “To be honest it’s been a little boring.”

“I think boring is a welcome change right now.” She moves past him and takes over the recently vacated seat. “I need to observe him for an hour,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Why don’t you head down to the mess, get yourself some coffee?”

He frowns slightly at the mildly worded dismissal. “My orders—”

Barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes, Natasha lifts an eyebrow and gives him a cool smile. “No need to worry. I’m more than capable of handling him.”

Chastised, he straightens his posture. “Of course,” he responds briskly and walks out, leaving her alone with the most dangerous prisoner SHIELD has ever taken into custody. She immediately goes to work, hacking into the network and substituting the live feed for a previous recording from two hours ago. If she’s done this correctly, then she’s just bought herself forty-five minutes of uninterrupted and, more importantly, unrecorded quality time with Loki.

Once the door to the holding cell is disabled, Natasha stands up and unbuckles her belt and holsters, dropping them –and the Glocks tucked neatly inside- on the console. The gauntlets follow, along with her communicator. Stripped of her weapons, she advances through the open doorway, no hesitation in her step. After all, she’s not worried about being unarmed. Her body is the only weapon she needs to accomplish her objective.

Up close the pathetic condition in which Loki has been reduced to becomes clearer. Bits of dark marble still cling to his hair. His leathers are ruined by jagged rips, the smoothness of the metal pieces marred by dents and deep scratches. The bruises on the side of his face, though less livid, are still present, dark stains against the paleness of his skin. His arms are bound tightly behind him with the shackles Thor clamped on his wrists as soon as he’d finished the shot Tony offered him. The strain on his shoulders and back must be agonizing but his comfort is the very last thing Fury is concerned with. A heavy chain circles his waist, dropping down between his legs to attach to the cuffs on his ankles. The short length keeps him effectively hobbled; he can’t get off the bench without falling flat on his face.

Not the most elegantly wrapped of gifts but Natasha is flexible enough to work with what she’s been given.

Though the _click_ of her heels against the floor echoes inside the cell, Loki refuses to acknowledge her presence, his eyes remaining stubbornly closed even when she invades his space and plants herself between his spread knees. Her lips curl ever so slightly as she reaches for the zipper on her uniform. Perhaps this will get his attention. Slowly Natasha tugs it all the way down. After peeling off the sleeves, she lowers the top half of her uniform past her hips and thighs. It’s a shame he’s decided to ignore her little show; he’s missing out on quite the view. She has worn nothing underneath. No bra or underwear to prevent the cool air from raising small goosebumps along her skin, from pebbling her nipples into hard points.

And while Loki’s apparent indifference could deceive a rookie agent, he’s no match for her. He’s like an open book, his nervousness betrayed by the fluttering of the pulse point on the base of his throat, the slight flare of his nostrils as she sidles closer.

Natasha brings her hands up to her breasts, lifting them as if in offering. “You can look. I know you want to,” she says in a sultry purr that has hooked many a mark. “Oh, you didn’t think I’d find out?” She lets out a soft laugh. “Barton told me about your interest in our relationship. Said that you kept grilling him about it. Did it arouse you? Making him describe all the times we fucked?” One hand dips between her thighs, fingertips gliding easily over already wet folds. “His reports are very thorough. I’m sure he went into great detail on just how wet” -she eases a finger inside her, down to the knuckle- “and tight my pussy is.” She presses up and gasps, more theatrical than real, but it has the desired effect. The line of his throat trembles as he swallows, a tiny movement that has her struggling to contain a grin. He’s beginning to unravel; all she needs to do is pluck out the thread.

Pulling her hand away from her aching cunt, she firmly grasps the muzzle enclosing his mouth and jaw. Her thumb lightly traces over the ridges and grooves set into the metal as she examines it closely. The craftsmanship is exquisite, far superior to anything she’s ever encountered in her many assignments. Which, Natasha supposes, should be expected of a technologically advanced alien race.

She wonders briefly if she should feel any regret for the vulgar manner in which she’s about to use it.

“I’m curious,” she says lightly, tipping his face up to hers. “Did you imagine driving your cock into my pussy before or after you make him rape me?”

Again he remains silent, as if he had not heard her question. Then suddenly his eyes fly open, and if his magic had not been contained by the cuffs and muzzle, Natasha is sure that she would have been burning on the spot.

She grins, baring her teeth against his fury. “Interesting. I didn’t peg you for a guy who was into sloppy seconds. But then again you’re used to that, right? Made to wait your turn. Your desires always put aside for someone else’s.” Releasing the muzzle, she sinks her hand in his hair and curls her fingers tightly around the greasy locks. “I guess this won’t bother you too much.”

Natasha roughly pulls him in until his face is pressed tight against her mound. The initial shock of the metal making contact with her skin has her sucking in a breath. It’s as if a current is racing along her nerves, igniting a liquid fire low in her belly. His head held firmly between both hands, she grinds down on the muzzle, teasing her throbbing clit with the uneven surface. To her surprise he doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even try to squirm away from her. She pushes the obvious question to the back of her mind and instead takes advantage of his lack of resistance by violently twisting his head back and forth to increase the stimulation against her clit, to bring herself that much closer to the edge. She’s practically riding his face now, the tip of his nose flattening against her with each snap of her hips but she doesn’t care that he might have trouble breathing. After all, he’s only a tool, and a poor one at that. This method isn’t the best way to get off, too crude to deliver the precise stimulation that she needs. Even so, she soon feels that familiar tension coiling around her limbs. With a soft, ragged cry she locks his head between her thighs as her orgasm finally overtakes her and she falls apart into a million pieces.

After a few deep breaths Natasha gathers herself together and releases him. Loki is completely unraveled now, breathing hard, her slick smeared all over the muzzle and the uncovered portions of his face. Twin spots of color burn high on his cheeks, as bright as the hate radiating from his eyes. That’s not unexpected, given what she just did to him.

But the lust simmering right behind it? Well, that’s something new and far more interesting.

Her gaze drops down to his lap. And to the clear outline of his erect cock against his leathers.

Her eyes flit back to his, and he visibly seethes at the smirk on her lips. “I suppose it would be too cruel of me to leave you like this,” she muses out loud. Bracing one hand on the wall behind him, Natasha lifts her leg and plants the sole of her boot on his groin. She rolls her ankle, making him jerk at the movement. A muffled sound escapes from underneath the muzzle. Natasha can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure. Maybe both, now that she’s discovered his particular tastes.

She works her boot over him thoroughly, prodding his balls with the tip, dragging her heel along the length of his cock. Perhaps she’s a little careless with the pressure she applies; it’s not as if he’s in a position to do anything about it. And like before Loki doesn’t try to fight her off, though he seems to have regained a bit of his former defiance as he attempts to stare her down. But he can’t win against her. Not when Natasha has him like this. In the end he turns his head away, even as his body gives in and arches up toward her, seeking relief.

It doesn’t take very long. Loki shudders violently and then collapses against the wall, clearly deflated, eyes shut as if he can’t bear to contemplate this latest defeat. He only stirs after she’s put her uniform back on, slowly raising his head and watching her from under half-lidded eyes as she finishes zipping up.

Natasha doesn’t bother with getting the last word in. She simply spins on her heel and walks out of the cell the same way she came in, leaving him to stew in his latest humiliation.

It’s not enough payback for all the damage he’s caused. She doubts that it will ever be.

But it will have to do for now.


End file.
